Chapter Text
As always, taking leave of his mother was a trial for Peter Pettigrew. Not that he didn’t love his mother, he did! It was just that he was her only baby, and mostly only company since his dad had gone. (Dead, she thought. Run away and left them, Peter thought. Not that it mattered either way.) So she always made a scene when it was time for him to leave for school. Mum hugged, kissed his cheeks, hugged again, wept, ensured that he had the hamper of food she’d prepared to ensure he didn’t somehow starve to death between King’s Cross and Hogwarts, wept again, kissed his cheeks again….
It always felt like a daring escape to actually get away and get to the train, and Peter was usually the last of his friends to board, which generally meant he had to find somewhere else to stash his trunk. (James and Sirius didn’t exactly pack light, and they were always first on board.) This time, though, Peter was only third - James and Sirius and their luggage had taken over the friends’ usual compartment, but Remus wasn’t there yet.
This was definitely odd, but it meant he could stash his trunk by taking Remus’s usual corner, so it wasn’t exactly bad. “Remus is usually here before me, have either of you seen him?”
“He’ll be along,” said James quite confidently. Of course, James Potter was always confident, about everything, so that wasn’t unusual.
Peter wondered if that was a yes anyway, and decided that it probably wasn’t but he wasn’t going to insist on an actual answer.
“He’d never leave us,” Sirius agreed lazily from his sprawl by the window. “Or school, of course. But mostly us.”
“Mostly you!” James laughed.
Peter laughed too, and didn’t point out that Remus had been his friend first, because it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Sirius and Remus were better friends than Peter and Remus had ever been.
Sirius threw a pair of buttons at them. The one he threw at Peter hit him in the cheek, but James caught his. “What’s this?”
“Darling Reggie pissed me off the other day, so last night I ignored his stupid bedroom sign and nicked all the buttons off all his things. And all his shoelaces.” For a second, Sirius looked pleased and proud, then it folded into a scowl. “Of course he just got bloody Kreacher to fix it all before breakfast, then tattled to Mummy. Glad I didn’t do it earlier, the old bat went… what’s that word from Muggle Studies? Nuclear. She went nuclear. But she couldn’t do more than shriek a bit before it was time to catch the train.”
“Mate, you’ve got to get out of that house.” James took a seat across from Sirius and leaned forward. “I’m serious-“
“No, I’m-“
James laughed and threw the button back at him. “Get some new material, Black! Still, though, nuclear over a few buttons? Come stay at mine! You’re already coming for Christmas and Easter, just don’t go back there summer and you’re free.”
Sirius didn’t accept right away, which Peter found strange. Surely he’d been angling for just such an offer for a while? From all he’d said, the only reason he was still living at ‘home’ was having nowhere else to go. But still, he frowned a little, even if he looked tempted, and said, “I’ll think about it, mate. It’s not as simple as all that.”
“‘Course it is!” James took a seat directly across from him and kicked him lightly. “But I’ve got the whole year to convince you, so I don’t mind shutting up now. Where is Remus?”
“Didn’t I hear someone say he’d be along?” Sirius wondered into the open air, carefully not looking at his best friend, who kicked him again.
Peter also sat down, near the door and thus out of convenient kick-range. “I think I heard something like that, too. I wonder where?”
“I’m here!” Another boy, already in his school robes, crashed in. “I’m here! Please don’t go on a manhunt or interrogate anyone or-“
All three of the other occupants of the compartment burst into applause, though Sirius attempted to look insulted at the same time. “Remus! What do you take us for?”
“Exactly what you are!” retorted the scarred boy, dropping into an empty space and completing their group. “You lot are never more than fifteen seconds-“
“What’s that on your chest?” Peter interrupted. Remus’s lectures never went anywhere except to soothe his sporadic conscience, so while he’d be annoyed to be interrupted, James and Sirius were likely to be just as happy not to listen to him go on. And there was something, just… “Is that a prefect’s badge?”
“You stole a prefect’s badge?” Sirius twisted to offer a high-five.
“I didn’t know you had it in you!” James laughed. “Let’s hide it so when whoever it belongs to comes looking-“
Remus ignored the hand waiting to be slapped (Sirius wiggled it a little and then sighed and increased his sprawl, pretending brief despair) and said mildly, “It’s, uh… actually mine. Not stolen.”
Under the now-howls of laughter from the other two, Peter asked, “Who’d make you a prefect?” It was a good question, he thought; he loved his friends, of course, but if they hadn’t been his friends he was sure they would have made his life miserable. It was just… how things were. And while Remus wasn’t as joyous about it as James and Sirius or as relieved as Peter, he was still part of the misery-making. Not, in short, a good candidate for an enforcer the rules or model of good behavior.
Remus gave him a genuinely wounded look anyway, as if he felt personally betrayed by the question. “I think I could be good at it.”
“For sure it’s good for us!” James said firmly. “One less prefect to avoid, since you’re on our side.”
“I’m not meant to choose sides-“
“How’s the Project going?” James interrupted, fully dismissing Remus’s protest as usual. (At this point, not even Remus really expected to be heard when he disagreed with James about anything.)
“Cracked it two weeks ago!” Sirius said proudly. “I’ll show you all tonight. Am I first?”
“Nope,” James said smugly. “I got it three weeks ago. Petty?”
Peter hung his head and prayed he wasn’t either blushing or about to cry. They’d all been working on The Project (becoming Animagi so they could keep Remus company on full moons) since third year, and almost two years in he felt no closer to success than when they’d started. And now both James and Sirius had actually done it! “Um. No. S-sorry. I just… it’s not coming….”
“Keep at it!” James said briskly and probably encouragingly. “We’ll carry you there if we have to.”
Across from James, Sirius gave Peter a thumbs-up. “You’ll get there with all of us working on you.”
For some reason, that didn’t make Peter feel any better, in fact it made him feel worse. He was holding everyone back! And a little voice inside, a sharp cold one that he could never quite silence, said They’ll ditch you if you can’t catch up, and then you’re just a target.
But he wasn’t a target yet, because James changed the subject with a, “Does anyone know why formal robes were on the supplies list this year? Mum and Dad said that’s not normal, they never needed formal robes when they were at school.”
“And that was forever ago!” Sirius nodded sagely.
James mimed slapping him. “Shut up!”
“Because your parents are old.”
“Shut up!”
“Is it a fifth year thing no one talks about?” Peter asked to head off the incipient play-brawl. He wasn’t good at those.
“No, formal robes were on Reggie’s supply list too, and he’s a fourth-year.” Sirius was easily diverted, as always. “She spent hours dressing him like a little doll, because I wouldn’t let her at me.” She (or her, or sometimes the old bint) was always Sirius’s mother, since he claimed that calling her Mother or Mum caused him to literally vomit blood. “How about it, Prefect Remus, d’you know anything?”
Remus shook his head. “No, except it’s new for the sixth and seventh years too. They all had formal robes on their supply lists, and they never have before. No one has. No one’s got an older sister or brother who ever needed formal robes either that I’ve heard.”
For the rest of the train ride, James, Sirius, and Remus debated possible reasons for formal robes to be needed that year, offering up, talking through, and shooting down a number of variously outlandish ideas. Peter occasionally laughed or threw in an agreement with whatever James had said, because privately he was quite sure that they’d get an explanation if it was really that strange. Speculation only passed the time.
Other than that, it was quite a normal trip. The four boys between them managed to devour the hamper of food Peter’s mother had sent along. Why she persisted in believing that he ‘needed’ to eat that much was beyond him, but sharing out a lunch was a good way to earn a few points with his friends – always needed, since he wasn’t especially good at academics and wasn’t a Quidditch player. He didn’t mind, really, being the snack provider. It was a useful role.
As it was their fifth year, debarking the train and getting into one of the carriages to the school was old hat, everything was traditional. Even the traditional stealthy hex to Snape that splashed his second-or-thirdhand robes with mud was very smooth and practiced, as was the glare from Evans while she gripped Snape’s wand hand hard to prevent him from returning fire.
Everything stayed normal through Sorting of the new first-years and even through the Welcome Feast, and as usual strangeness only arrived when the Headmaster stood up to speak. “Now that our newest students are settled and we have all been fed and watered, it is my sad duty to inform you all that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be awarded this year, as there will in fact be no Quidditch.”
An uproar from all the students (except a few bewildered probably-Muggleborn first years) interrupted him. James and Sirius both actually got to their feet to yell more effectively. Peter considered doing so as well, but decided against it. He didn’t play Quidditch, after all, and James wouldn’t care whether his least athletic friend was yelling with him or not.
A flick of wands from the teachers’ table (all four of the Heads of House) caused a wave of silence to roll out and blanket the Great Hall. Everyone was still yelling, of course, but silently.
Dumbledore smiled slightly and nodded. “Thank you all. Now, to continue: the Quidditch Cup will not be awarded this year due to an event which will be starting in October and will continue throughout the year, taking up a good deal of the teachers’ time and energy. But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely.”
By this point, many of the students had grown tired of yelling soundlessly and retaken their seats. This included James and Sirius, who had subsided to mutinous glowers instead, and they were not alone in that.
The Headmaster ignored the rage of the student body and continued. “It is my very great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be held for the first time in exactly one hundred and fifty years. For those of you who are not aware – and those that are should forgive this brief explanation – the Triwizard Tournament was established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition amongst the great magical schools of Europe: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected from each school, and the champions competed in a series of three magical tasks to determine the winner of the Triwizard cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”
The Great Hall suddenly buzzed with chatter and whispers, showing that the silence spell had worn off at some point during the Headmaster’s explanation.
Dumbledore continued, “The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving along with their students in October, and the selection of the champions will be performed by an impartial judge on Halloween.”
“It’s going to be me,” James murmured, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I’m going to be chosen. I’m going to win.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Sirius said, also low-voiced. “Who else would it be, Snivellus?”
It probably would be James, Peter thought. He did tend to get what he wanted, so if he wanted to go up against the best two other schools had to offer, it’d happen.
“Eager though I know you all are to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore kept speaking as if the Hall was silent, and it just quieted down around him, “it has been suggested, and all three of our great schools have agreed, that participation should be limited to those students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years of age or older. The tasks set in the Triwizard Cup are dangerous and complex, and only sixth and seventh year students are likely to be able to face them with any guarantee of survival.”
“Challenge accepted,” James and Sirius murmured simultaneously.
“No!” Remus hissed. “It’s not a challenge, it’s a prohibition-“
“What’s the difference?” Peter asked.
Remus glared at him, but James slapped him on the back. “See, Petty gets it!”
“I will be personally ensuring that no underage witch or wizard hoodwinks the impartial judge.” Dumbledore seemed to be looking right at James when he said that, but there was no way he could have heard James above the dull roar of very similar murmurs. “So I beg you will not waste your time or mine by attempting to submit yourselves if you are under seventeen.” He cleared his throat. “As I said, the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be arriving in October, and will be remaining with us for the bulk of the school year. I expect you all to extend every courtesy to our guests, and will extend your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when they are selected. And now, to bed, all of you! Lessons commence as usual tomorrow.”
The scraping and banging of students getting up to crowd towards the double doors into the entrance hall covered all conversations that weren’t being yelled. “We’re going to do it,” James said. “There’s bound to be a way around whatever the old man’s going to do. Bound to be.”
“And there’s no way Durmstrang’s going to obey the rules,” Sirius said. “They’re going to let anyone in who wants to go in. They’re a Dark school, they’re bound to cheat every time they can just because they can.”
“They agreed to the rule as much as Dumbledore did,” Remus protested weakly. “Besides, even if you manage to enter you won’t be picked. Not over someone who knows more magic or is just better than you.”
“No one’s better than me!” James rounded on Remus. “Who d’you think’s better than me, eh? I’m the best Chaser in twenty years, I’m top of every class-“
James was really only top of Transfiguration consistently, he was just near the top the rest of the time. Evans mostly took top in Charms, Snape was unbeatable in Potions, and some Ravenclaw or other was always top in Astronomy, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. But Peter kept his mouth shut – facts at this point would just make him a target along with Remus.
“Literally anyone in sixth or seventh year!” Remus stepped away, but didn’t wilt like he usually did. “They’ve all passed their OWLs, the seventh years are gearing up for NEWTs – all of them know more magic than we do-“
“How many of them became Animagi at fifteen?” James hissed. “How many of’em made a map like ours? How many of’em run rings around Filch and Pince and that bloody cat like we do? None, that’s how many. None.”
Now Remus wilted. “You could get expelled, that’s all I’m saying-“
Sirius, in his occasional role as peacemaker, threw an arm around the scarred boy’s shoulders. “So we’ll be careful, right? We’ll make a plan so good even you can’t poke holes in it, so we won’t be caught and can’t get in trouble, and your shiny shiny prefect badge stays on.”
“We’ll need to find out who this impartial judge is,” James said, visibly cranking his temper back to a simmer. “Once we know who it is we can find out how to get around them.”
“It mightn’t be a person at all,” Peter mused, now that it seemed safer to talk. “I mean, impartial means… not partial. Not on anybody’s side.”
“Lovely work stating the obvious there, mate.” Sirius grinned at him. “Impartial means not partial, classic!”
“He’s got a point,” Remus said, still tucked in Sirius’s arm. “People are always on somebody’s side, but things just do what they’re made to do. So maybe if we look up old Triwizard Tournaments and see how they picked Champions-“
“-we can figure out how this one’s going to pick!” Sirius finished and squeezed Remus briefly before spinning him out like they were dancing. “Are the Marauders off to the library then?”
“We are.” James nodded firmly. “As soon as everybody else is asleep. No time like the present!”